Monday, January 23, 2012

Three Minutes with Random Words

Normanday #12: Everybody loves to write about parsnip

Write for three minutes about anything, but include these three words…


Email what you wrote to woof at bright dot net by the end of the day January 29 (put “Norman Looks Great in a Tuxedo” in the subject line). I’ll post as many of my favorite entries as I want next Monday. Include your first name (or, even better, use a pen name) and age (unless you’re tortoise-old). If you’re a published writer, include a biography to be posted with your entry.

Here are the entries from last week when I asked you to write for three minutes about…

you got stuck washing the dishes even though it was your brother’s turn. You stuck your hand in the nasty sink water, but what you pulled out wasn’t a dirty fork

Penny C. Monster

What you pulled out wasn’t a dirty fork…

…it was a noodle of spaghetti all stringy and gross and you gagged because it smelled bad, too, like worms on the sidewalk after it rains. And then you realized, it was a worm. And it was moving. It was alive! You dropped him back into the soapy dishwater and he started to swim. “Hey you, have you seen my rubber ducky?” he said. Of course you hadn’t, but you didn’t say so because you were too shocked to speak. “What’s the matter, have you got spaghetti in your ears?” he said. You touched your ears self-consciously, and discovered, yes, you did have spaghetti in your ears. You decided you’d had enough of washing dishes and let out the drain, being careful not to touch the gooey worm. “Curse you and your dishpan hands,” the worm yelled as he was swept down the drain along with soggy crumbs of garlic bread. Or were those lice?


What you pulled out wasn’t a dirty fork…

…it was a tentacle! It wrapped around my wrist and squeezed so tight I dropped the dishrag. “Help!” I yelled. But my brother is a jerk and he called back, “It’s your turn. I did the dishes yesterday!” He totally didn’t, but there wasn’t time to argue as the tentacle pulled me into the sink. Water splashed all over the counter and the floor. Mom wasn’t going to like that. But I had bigger worries. There was a second and a third and a fourth tentacle, all wrapped around me so I couldn’t move my arms. They pulled me under. I looked to see what type of creature the tentacles belonged to, but I could only see tentacles. They were coming up through the drain. And they were pulling me down. It was all my stupid brother’s fault. I don’t care what he said. It was his turn to do the dishes.

Beverly the Other Half-Invisble Turtle

What you pulled out wasn’t a dirty fork…

It’s the Sink Genie.

“I’ll grant you three dishwashing-related wishes,” he says.

“I wish the dishes were clean,” I wish.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he says. “I’ll grant you three dishwashing-related wishes, with the exception of wishing the dishes were clean.”

I’m stumped. What can I wish for? I have an idea.

“I wish this cheese-covered fork was a hundred dollar bill.”


Wow. I didn’t expect that to work. I fold the former fork and put it into my wallet.

“I wish the soap was snow.”


Sweet. I pack the snow into a solid ball and bean my brother as he sits watching TV.

Then I’m struck by greater inspiration. Every Monday my little brother is supposed to wash the dishes. I wash the dishes on Tuesdays.

“I wish everyday was Monday,” I wish.


Best. Wish. Ever. I’ll never have to wash the dishes again and my brother will have dishpan hands for the rest of his life.


Anonymous said...

Yay! A writing exercise I can do! Defying gravity, without the need of a forklift (and no parsnips were hurt during the creation), you shall have my submission shortly.

Norman the Half-Invisible Turtle said...

Okay, writers. Megan is stepping up to the plate and you should, too. Come on! How hard is it to connect parsnip, a forklift, and gravity? It practically writes itself.

Kelly Hashway said...

I'd love a sink genie! Where can I get one?

Norman the Half-Invisible Turtle said...

Kelly, You probably already have a Sink Genie. Most sinks do. Nobody’s sure what makes them reveal themselves to dish washers. My guess is that they like to be sung to. Try that out and let me know if it works.